Lindiweh sat at the right corner of The Crimson Lounge, sipping her drink slowly. The bar's dim lights cast a soft glow over her face, reflecting the contemplative thoughts in her eyes. She nodded to the hit song playing in the background, its lyrics echoing a journey of
ambition and resilience—her journey.
The Crimson Lounge was packed tonight, the chatter of voices mixing with the steady pulse of electronic beats. At a nearby table, a group of college friends laughed raucously, clearly enjoying the escape the night brought. Lindiweh couldn't help but smile at their carefree joy. It was a sharp contrast to her own quiet presence.
The bartender, a man with tattoos running down his arms, expertly flipped bottles, sending them spinning into the air before catching them with practiced precision. The crowd around the bar cheered, their enthusiasm infectious. But Lindiweh stayed in her corner, only the occasional glance catching the light from the swinging bottles. She didn't mind the noise. It was easy to tune it out when your mind was elsewhere.
With her drink nearly finished, she raised her hand to signal the waiter, who was weaving through the crowd, tray in hand. The waiter, a young man with a friendly smile, leaned over as he approached. "Another one?" he asked.
Lindiweh nodded without a word. "Coming right up," he said, flashing a quick grin before turning back toward the bar.
She watched him for a moment before her eyes wandered to the other end of the bar. A man in his late twenties, dressed in a sharp black jacket, had caught her gaze. He was looking in her direction, his interest apparent, but Lindiweh quickly looked away. She wasn't here for distractions, not tonight.
Her hand tightened around her glass as the music shifted, its rhythm now slower and deeper, pulling her attention back to the present. But her thoughts remained clouded, drifting to memories that she could never shake.
"Will I ever get there?" she whispered, almost to herself. The words barely left her lips before silent tears began to stream down her cheeks. She quickly wiped them away, but the ache in her chest was still there, gnawing at her. It had been two long years without her parents—a void that no amount of ambition could fill. They had been gone too soon, leaving her to navigate the world alone.
She took a deep breath and straightened up, pushing the sorrow aside. She wasn't here to dwell in sadness. No, she was here to keep moving forward, no matter how hard it felt some days.
The waiter returned with her drink, setting it down with a gentle clink. "Here you go. Take it slow this time," he joked, but Lindiweh didn't respond, instead focusing on the cold glass in front of her.
"Thanks," she finally muttered, offering him a faint smile, which he returned before turning away to attend to customer. As he moved off, Lindiweh's gaze drifted to the door where a new group had just entered, all dressed in their Friday best, ready for a night of celebration.
The familiar feeling of being on the outside looking in washed over her. She wanted that carefree spirit, that sense of belonging. But she knew her journey was different. She had bigger things to chase—things that wouldn't come easy, but she would make them happen, even if it meant facing the world alone.
As the crowd around her grew louder, she couldn't help but feel the pull of ambition. The bar, the people, the music—it was all part of the backdrop. But her dream, that elusive future she was working toward, was the only thing that truly mattered.
Lindiweh glanced at her watch and sighed. It was nearly midnight, and she knew the trains would run less frequently. As much as she wanted to linger, the thought of navigating the dimly lit streets alone didn't sit well with her. She finished her drink in one last gulp, leaving a soft burn in her throat, and stood up.
The Crimson Lounge had grown even livelier, the crowd now packed tighter and the music pulsating louder. Her steps were deliberate as she weaved through the throng of people, her mind focused on getting to the train station. The warm buzz from the drink gave her a temporary shield against the chill that awaited her outside.
As she pushed open the heavy door, the night air hit her with a sharp contrast to the heat of the bar. The streetlights cast long shadows, and the muffled hum of the city provided a strange kind of comfort. She pulled her coat tighter around her and started walking toward the station, her heels clicking against the pavement in a steady rhythm.
The streets were nearly deserted, save for the occasional car passing by or a lone figure darting into a nearby building. Lindiweh quickened her pace as she approached the station. The train platform loomed ahead, dimly lit and eerily quiet, the distant rumble of an approaching train the only sound breaking the silence.
She stood at the edge of the platform, her arms folded tightly against her chest. The cold was biting now, making her wish she'd brought gloves. A figure to her right caught her attention—a young woman about her age, scrolling through her phone with an air of nonchalance.
"Long night?" Lindiweh asked, surprising even herself with the small talk.
The woman looked up, startled at first, then smiled. "Yeah, something like that. You?"
"Just wrapping up," Lindiweh replied.
The woman nodded and returned to her phone, leaving Lindiweh to her thoughts. She looked down the tracks, the light of the approaching The rhythmic clatter of the train lulled the other passengers into a subdued quiet, but Lindiweh's mind was anything but still. Thoughts swirled in her head like a relentless storm, each one louder than the last. The ache in her temples grew sharper, and she pressed her fingers against her forehead, willing the pain to subside.
Her parents' faces flashed in her mind, unbidden. Her father's deep laugh, her mother's warm, comforting smile—images that felt as vivid as if they were sitting beside her. She hadn't thought of them this vividly in weeks, not since she buried herself in work and ambitions to drown out the emptiness they left behind.
The train slowed as it approached her stop. Lindiweh gathered her things and stepped off, the cool night air meeting her with an almost bitter intensity. The short walk to her small apartment was quiet, save for the occasional bark of a dog in the distance.
Once inside, she locked the door, kicked off her heels, and sank onto the couch. Her tiny studio apartment was cluttered but cozy, with photographs of her parents still on the shelves. One particular photo caught her eye—a family vacation to the beach. Her father had insisted they build the tallest sandcastle, her mother cheering them on as they worked. She couldn't help but smile at the memory, despite the dull ache in her chest.
The headache from earlier hadn't subsided, so she lay back on the couch, staring up at the ceiling. Slowly, her eyes began to drift shut, her body surrendering to exhaustion.
In her dreams, the past came alive. She was eight years old again, sitting on the floor with her mother, learning to thread a needle. "You've got to be patient, my love," her mother had said, her voice soft yet firm. "Big things take time and focus."
The scene shifted, and now she was sixteen, standing on a stage after winning a school competition. Her father had been in the front row, clapping so hard she thought his hands might fall off. Afterward, he had pulled her aside, his eyes full of pride. "Never stop believing in yourself, Lindi," he'd said. "The world will try to shake your faith, but don't let it."
The dream shifted again, this time to the hospital room. Her parents' faces were pale, their strength fading, but their love for her still shining through. "You'll be okay," her mother had whispered, her hand gripping Lindiweh's. "Promise us you'll keep going, no matter what."
Lindiweh woke with a start, her heart pounding. The early morning light streamed through the window, casting a soft glow over the room. She sat up, wiping away the stray tears that had dampened her cheeks in her sleep.
She glanced at the clock—6:30 a.m. It was time to start another day. But this time, she felt a renewed sense of purpose. Her parents' words echoed in her mind, steadying her resolve.
Standing by the window, she gazed out at the city waking up, the possibilities of a new day stretching before her. "Big things take time," she whispered to herself, her mother's words guiding her like a lighthouse in the storm.
With that, she stepped into the shower, letting the warm water wash away the remnants of sleep and sorrow. Today, she would take another step toward her dreams—not just for herself but for the memory of the people who had believed in her the most.
washing away the weight of the previous night. She let out a deep breath, allowing herself a rare moment of stillness. The city outside was already alive, the muffled sounds of traffic and distant voices filtering through her bathroom window.
Then—ping.
A sharp notification sound cut through the air, barely audible over the running water. At first, she ignored it, assuming it was just another random message or social media alert. But then—ping—it came again. Something about the urgency in the sound made her pause.
She quickly rinsed off and stepped out, wrapping herself in a towel as she padded toward her phone. With damp fingers, she picked it up from the bedside table and unlocked the screen.
Her heart skipped a beat.
"Dear Ms. Lindiweh, we are pleased to interview..."
Her breath caught in her throat as she skimmed through the email, her pulse racing with a mix of excitement and nerves. It was from one of the top companies she had applied to—a rare opportunity, a chance to finally step forward into the future she had been chasing.
She read the email again, just to be sure she wasn't imagining it. The interview was scheduled for the following week. She had time to prepare, but suddenly, the reality of it all hit her like a wave.
This was it. The beginning of something new.
Lindiweh clutched the phone to her chest, her mind already shifting gears. There was no room for doubt. No time for fear.
She had promised herself she would Make it, and now, the door had finally cracked open.
And she was ready to walk through it.
Lindiweh sat at her kitchen table, absently scrolling through her phone, still trying to process the email notification that had just shaken her world. The interview. Four days away. Her heartbeat had yet to slow from the excitement of seeing that opportunity finally materialize.
But then, a thought hit her like a cold wave.
The presentation.
Her class presentation—today. The one she had been preparing for over the last few weeks, the one that felt like it could define her entire semester. How could she have forgotten?
She stared at her phone for a moment longer, the email about the interview still glowing on her screen, but reality quickly pulled her back. This was no time to daydream.
The presentation had always been a priority, but now, with the interview looming so close, everything felt like a race. She could already picture herself in that conference room, ready to prove her worth. But that wasn't going to happen if she let today slip away.
Her gaze flickered to the clock on the wall—9:00 AM. Her class was in less than an hour, and she still needed to get dressed, gather her materials, and mentally prepare. But a part of her couldn't help but feel torn. The excitement of the interview was palpable, but she knew her grades and current projects had to come first. The interview, as incredible as it was, still had to wait.
With a deep breath, she stood up and set her phone aside. Focus on today.
She quickly moved through her morning routine—changing into simple blouse and skirt, fixing her hair into a neat ponytail. Her hands worked quickly, almost mechanically, as she gathered her notes and stapled the last of her presentation handouts. Her mind wandered between the two realities. If I nail this presentation, it'll be one less thing to worry about before the interview.
She smiled to herself, knowing the next few days would be critical. After all, if she could pull this off today, it would give her the confidence to walk into that interview and own the room. She grabbed her bag, slinging it over her shoulder, and paused at the door.
A part of her still felt the pull of the interview. She couldn't help but imagine the change it could bring to her life. This could be the beginning of everything. A new chapter. But before she could let herself get too carried away, the voice of reason kicked in.
"First, you need to make it through today," she muttered to herself as she walked out the door, heading for the bus stop.